A Little Bit of Freedom
by Scarabbug
Summary: For just a few brief moments then, he hadn’t been alone anymore… Just a little bit of freedom. Spoilers for episode three of Season Three, 10th Doctor. Oneshot.


**Brief fic set just after episode two of season three (the last aired episode as of 29****th**** April 2007). Contains spoilers for that episode and I figure you also probably need to have seen it in order to understand what the heck is going on here. Standard disclaimers apply.

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A Little Bit of Freedom. 

He can feel them _thinking_.

That's it, really. Their thoughts are buzzing in his head, for the first time in… he doesn't want to think how long even though he knows, right down to the nearest milli-millisecond. That's how he knows, right from the start that he's winning. He's _going_ to win.

'_We are not Daleks…' _

'_We are not you.' _

'_We are not Daleks.' _

They're in his head, and he… he can hear them _thinking_, and they can hear _him_. They're all seeing everything in the universe, all of time seen outside of time, just the way he always sees it. They're confused, and scared (yeah, obviously scared), and all of them are _thinking_.

It's a bit like being in a Timelord playground, because he's the biggest of them all and he's just _interesting_, so they're all crowding thoughts around his head to have a look and trying to work out who he is. All of them want to _talk_ to him. All of them want someone to tell them where they are and what they're doing. _Just_ like children. Newborns.

'_**No you're right. You're right. You're not them are you? Not a single one of you. You don't have to worry now, you're okay.' **_

'_Why?' _

'_Why?'_

'_Why?' _

'_What are we?' _

'_**Good question, I'll let you know when I have an answer.'**_ The important thing is, though, that they're not _them_. Not Dalek brains in human bodies ready to infect the world and that knowledge is such a massive relief that it makes him want to laugh out loud. He likes that feeling. Laughing out loud. He doesn't get to very often. Shame that now isn't really the time for hysterics because if it was you'd bet he'd be in them because he's not alone anymore. His head's not silent and empty of all except for time.

And best of all – He's _won_.

Because really, he _always_ wins, doesn't he? And then they always come back again. The last of the Daleks and the last of the Time Lords. And –and this is the really funny part– for the first time in centuries, there are more Timelords than there are Daleks.

Well, sort of. Kind of. Actually they're all part Dalek as well, every single one. Human bodies and the DNA of enemies… kind of like a cocktail for the weirdest species ever to tred the universe, and he's seen all of those and more so you'd better believe he means it when he says that. Humans were always weird apes to start with. Stick a bit of Dalek in them and who knows what you're gonna get?

Stick a bit of _Timelord_ and… well. He's not complaining.

'_We won't kill them. we are not Daleks.' _

'_We are not Daleks and we never will be.' _

_What are we?'_

'_What… I hear you.'_

'_**Yeah. You hear me. But it's alright. That's normal really.**_ _**It's all gonna be alright, you know.' **_

The voices quell a little after that, and he hasn't really realised this, but he's still standing on the chairs of the theatre and looking at the Daleks, watching Dalek Sect die and feeling all that anger and fury and all those other human things they don't want to admit exists. And he knows all the people in the room around him are feeling it too. All those human bodies housing the brains of part-Dalek part-timelords.

And they're thinking about those feelings of his. They're thinking and they don't understand.

'_You're angry.'_ A voice near the front is whispering in his consciousness.

'_**Yeah. I'm angry. I'm really, really angry.' **_

'_You're angry, why?'_

'_**Because of them and him. Because Sec was their last chance, you know. The one thing that could've made them into something better. The one Dalek with nerve and strength and something more to offer. And now he's dead. They killed him. They killed their future.' **_

'…_They're Daleks.' _

'_**Yeah. They are. It's what Daleks do. They kill the different.' **_

'_We are not Daleks…' _

'_**No. No, damn right you're not, mate.' **_

'_Why did they kill him?' _

'_Why?' _

'_Why?'_

'_Why?' _

It's with those questions that he knows they aren't Daleks. Daleks don't question, Daleks just do. No Dalek has ever the ability to imagine outside of the little metal box in their heads, not even the cult of Skaro. Because the best imagination relies on questioning and they can't do that. That's why he'd won this from the start. That's why he's still standing there in the middle of a room with a bunch of people pointing weapons at them and yet he's still not dying. The Timelord-Daleks question the logic of killing him. They question why he has to die.

'_Why?'_

'_Why?'_

'_Why?' _

They're _not_ Daleks.

All the people in the room with him right now aren't Daleks. All these people. The plan didn't work because he didn't let it. And they're going to be safe, now. They're all going to be safe because be damned if he's going to let Tallulah (with three L's and a H) and Lazlo and Martha die again at the hands of these things that call themselves living. Be damned if he's going to let any of them die.

'_**You're alright, all of you.'**_

'_We're free.'_

'_We're not Daleks.' _

'_We're not.' _

'_A little bit of freedom, who we are and what we are…' _

They believe him. He doesn't know why but really, who cares? It matters that they know what they are (okay, he's not entirely certain what that is himself but damn, they feel _so much_ like Timelords it makes his voice catch in his throat). That's what's important. That's what has to happen. He's not that sure if they are really Timelords, but they're in his head alright and that's enough for him for now. That's all he needs to make him feel happy. That's all he needs to remember how it felt.

'_**All right. Listen.' **_

They listen. He feels the voices quail a little but they're all still thinking. They're not afraid. They understand the difference between doing right and doing wrong and he turns, stares at two members of the Cult of Skaro and grins with pride and oh, how he wishes Daleks could frown.

'_**You decide what to do here, right? You make your minds up. Do you want to kill these people here; is that what you really want?'**_

'_Why?'_

'_Why?'_

'_**Yeah. Good question, like I said. And like I said, it's up to you.' **_

'_We don't want to kill you.'_

'_We aren't Daleks…' _

'_We will not do this.'_

_We won't.'_

'_We won't.' _

And then they turn their weapons on the Cult of Skaro. He tries not to feel too pleased, because Daleks don't die quickly and it takes shot after shot to bring them down when every one of theirs can take down three humans –not humans, he corrects himself quickly, just human bodies that die like them– but it doesn't stop them being outnumbered. And the Cult of Skaro, the last of the Daleks, dies before him, once again at the hands of sort-of Time Lords.

Of course he should've known about the whole risk-of-failure thing. And there were only two of the remaining three Daleks in the room when the shooting started. The last one must have been wired into all the others. Still there, still alive and giving the order to destroy the weapon that has not turned against them.

'_Why?' _

For cripes sakes, they're _Daleks_. Of _course_ they're going to kill them if things don't work out their way.

A few seconds later and the human bodies with not-human brains are screaming all around him and their pain and fear is spearing through his brain. The only ones still standing are the true human, Martha, Tallulah, Lazlo.

And the Timelord.

He can still hear the echoes of the newborns dying, just the way it was in the beginning. As if a thousand voices cried out and…

'…_**And we're suddenly silenced.'**_

Typical. Humans and their old time classic sayings, getting into his head again. Humans and their Shakespeare, humans and their Roses and Mickey's and Martha's and Jackie's and Lazlo's. Jacks, Ricky's, Adam's, Pete's, Harriett Joneses… Humans and their differences and failures and strengths and stupidities. Humans and their dreams and stories and ideal ways of seeing the world. Stupid humans. Courageous humans. Humans that lives where the Daleks all died.

Now, the humans are the only people living in the room. The Timelord-Daleks lie sprawled about the seating. Weapons burst and burning, hands still clutched to bleeding ears.

The voices are dead again. Gone. He feels them disappearing like the switching off of time. One minute the universe is stirring in your head, a thousand other voices (well, a couple of dozen anyway, maybe a hundred if he was lucky), and the next they all fall silent. His thoughts are alone in his head again.

'…_**Timelord.' **_

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'_There's a place for everyone.' _

'…_Not me.'

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**Fin. **_

**Concrit is appreciated as are all reviews in general.**


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